Many, many years ago,
when I was about two, Prince Charlie came to Australia to tour before he tied the knot with the ill fated Princess Di. I'm not sure how we ended up there but my parents took my brother and I to a polo match somewhere in Sydney that Chrlie was attending. Some time during the match, Mum wondered where I'd got to and was told by Dad 'Don't look, he's not with us.'
This was because I'd wandered inside the red tape of the royal enclosure, downed trolleys and was pissing on the ground about ten feet in front of Charlie. So there. Prince Charles has seen my dick.
(Fri 4th Aug 2006, 1:52, More)

Back in the mid 80's, my parents used to do a lot of shopping at Bookers cash & carry. As well as food items in amazing bulk sizes (who in the world would want that many prunes?) they'd also sell 'odd' items on special, a bit like ALDI do. Random items, usually from China.
Anyway, it was my brother's birthday and mum returned from the C&C armed with a round carboard tube, with a wick at the bottom, marked 'PARTY BOMB'.
The idea was simple. A firework full of plastic toys. Light the fuse, a bit of a bang, flying toys, happy kids. Easy.
Mum lights the fuse and (thankfully) makes everyone stand well back. there's a moment of quiet and then

BOOOOOMMM!!!

The fucker explodes with amazing force and, as promised, the toys are blown out. Unfortunately the firework is so powerful that most of the toys are blown into splinters. Most of what's left hits the ceiling and shatters. About ten percent survive intact. A week later and a news report confirms that we were one of the lucky groups to escape with our eyes. They were banned straight afterwards.

What better way to celebrate your eleventh birthday than with a perspex shrapnel bomb?
(Wed 5th Oct 2011, 11:29, More)

I wanted to be a binman.
At te age of about six, I managed to make friends with the bin men that cleared our street once a week. Every Thursday morning, I'd run out into the street (still clad in only PJ's) and talk to the bin men while they emptied the streets crap into the truck. They'd then let me press the compactor button at least twice before I ran to the top of our cul de sac street to wave them away ino the distance. My brother had a fancy dress 'what I want to be when I grow up' theme birthday party. There is a photo of me wearing 'stubbie' shorts, a string vest and a knotted hankie 'hat', heaving a binbag full of paper.

An old lady is walking down the street on a fine summer's day.
Birds are singing, there's flowers galore so she couldn't be happier. As the lady turns a corner, she spots a very little girl aged about six and says 'My, you're a pretty little thing! What's your name then?'
'Butterfly' replies the girl.
'Oh that's so sweet.' the old lady cries 'Why are you called that?'
'When I was in my mummy's tummy, a butterfly landed on it, and so I'm called Butterfly.'
The old lady walks on, happy and soon meets an even prettier little girl.
'Gosh! You are a pretty little lady! What's your name then?'
The little girl looks up and, with the slightest of lisps, angelicaly replies 'Oh, my name is Nightingale!'
The old lady is almost overcome and says 'Oh my! That's simply lovely! How did you come to be called that?'
'Well, when I was in my mummy's tummy, a nightingale landed on her and started to sing. So I'm called Nightingale.'
Our old friend nearly flies to the moon, she's so happy with this. Anyway, she walks on and, rounding a corner meets an ugly, deformed little girl and stops dead. Looking the child up and down she decides to try and be nice and says 'Hello little girl, what's your name then?'
The little girl looks up and replies 'Breezeblock......
(Thu 9th Sep 2004, 19:01, More)